Cynthia Chudamani, Year One
by AlaskaChic Storywriter
Summary: An American who's experienced a lot of tragedy in her family has to move to England when she's eleven. Next Generation, doesn't directly involve the Big Three (Harry, Ron, Hermione) until later and only briefly. Flames welcome!
1. The Beginning

_Hullo. I believe it time that I express my love for Harry Potter, now that I have an astoundingly amazing idea based upon some country music and my rereading of the series. I promise that I haven't abandoned my Frozen story - one has the weekends, which I'm pretty sure is when I'll be updating._

_Disclaimer - Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish it, is not mine. It is J. K. Rowling's. Respect that._

* * *

"Why?" Cynthia asked for the twenty-seventh time on the flight. "Why are we moving to England?"

"I've told you, Tia," her father responded patiently, not looking up from his magazine, "that my work is very important, and I was transferred here."

The eleven-year old huffed and crossed her arms. "Where are we going to live again?"

"Privet Drive."

She scowled. "Funny. Right now I want to _drive _my foot up someone's _private_."

"Cynthia!" he whisper-yelled. "Mind your manners!"

She rolled her eyes and looked out the window. Beneath them was a blanket of clouds bathed in rich hues of gold, deepening to a rich red, and ending at a deep lavender, furthest away from the sun. "We will be landing in London soon, so please put away all electronic devices."

With an exasperated sigh, she put away her blue iPod Nano 5G and popped a piece of mint gum in her mouth. They landed smoothly, and as soon as the flight attendant said that they could leave the plane, she hopped up, snatched up her bag, and impatiently waited for her father to slowly pack away his laptop.

In the airport, her father tried to make conversation with her, but received nothing but a sad and angry look. As they approached Privet Drive, she looked out at the uniform houses and sighed. She missed her previous beautiful house, cream with dark blue trim, out in the country. All her friends were born and raised in Georgia while she spent her childhood alternating between her father's house in New York and her mother's. Her mom died less then two months ago, and when her father said that he was moving to England... She hadn't smiled or laughed since.

She ran to her room and plopped on her bed. Her eyes flicked over to the alarm clock. Eight thirty. She knew that Sharon would be busy with the festival, as her mom was helping and it was five hours earlier there. Five hours! There would be hardly any time to talk, to visit...

She looked around. The room had been painted royal blue, and the carpet was a creamy white, reminding her forcefully of her old house. Her oak desk, bookshelf, dresser, nightstand, and bed had been set up, but all of her clothes and possessions had been kept in boxes. _Probably dad telling them not to touch them. That I'd attack. And he was right. _Cynthia said that the only things the movers could touch was the things she couldn't move herself, so those five things alone. She packed her stuff carefully into the seventeen large boxes.

At ten thirty, she was pulling out the last of her items - posters. There was one for the _Hobbit_, and one for each of the _Lord of the Rings_ movies. The _Avengers_ poster was next to one of each movie of all of the heroes - _Iron Man _1, 2, and 3; _Captain America_; _The Incredible Hulk_; and _Thor_. There was one of Jason Aldean, Blake Shelton, Lauren Alaina, and Bon Jovi. Evanscene, Simple Plan, and Good Charlotte joined. There was one from each season of _Sliders_, and two posters of the Eleventh Doctor sandwiched one of the Tenth. One more was put up - a Teen Titans one, the one cartoon she still watched, though it was canceled.

Her walls were now cluttered, and she nodded in satisfaction. She slipped on sweatpants and a way-too-big shirt and walked out to say goodnight to her dad. He was on his laptop with two tabs open.

"What're doing?" Cynthia asked without interest.

His eyes flicked over the screen. "Trying to decide if you'd like to go to Queenswood or Bales College."

"Uh, college isn't for another seven or eight years, dad."

"They're boarding schools, sweetheart."

She yawned. "Whatever. G'night."

"Night," he responded.

* * *

The next day was a pouring day in August. She spent the day in her room, listening to some of her favorite songs from Lauren Alaina and playing Minesweeper. By the end of the day, she played 170 games and won 122 of them. Only at meal times did she come out, and to brush her teeth. Over a McDonald's dinner, her father told her, "I'm sending you to Queenswood in September."

"Boarding school?" she guessed indifferently, not caring.

He shrugged. "I'll be working all the time during the school year. I might come to visit you during Christmas, and it's not over summer... and it's all girls."

"Whatever."

He studied her, dipping her chicken nuggets into the sweet and sour sauce. She became aware of his gaze and looked up. "What?" she asked after she swallowed.

"You're not reacting the way I thought you would."

She rolled her eyes. "To what?"

"This," he responded as he gestured vaguely. "You've seemed to grow up so much in so little time. My little girl..."

"Dad. I - I've had to. I don't want to cry - I hate crying. The only other option is to grow up, which I should've done a while ago." She sounded like she was twenty inside the just-past-a-decade little girl. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault. I know, first your Nana, then your Grandpa, now your mom... it's sad. You've moved on surprisingly well."

"No. I haven't. I just hide it, best I can."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Then you hide it surprisingly well. You are only eleven, Tia, and you've dealt with a lot of grief in less then a year."

She finished her chicken nuggets and fries. "May I be excused?" Her dad nodded the affirmative. She went to bed immediately afterwards.

* * *

The next day had sun poking through the clouds, so her dad almost literally kicked her out of the house to go to the nearby park to meet some kids. When she neared the park, she heard a scream.

"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!" it cried. She dashed towards the sound to see a group of burly kids pushing a merry-go-round extremely fast, and the noise was emanating from it. She approached it from the other side and stuck her hands in, clasping on the metal tightly. From the speed, she was propelled forward, but she kept hold until it slowed down for the kid to get off. He looked to be around seven, with light blue eyes and brown hair. The boy who approached her seemed to be around her age, but he was huge. His girth had to be partially inherited, but his rolls of fat showed that he probably ate a lot.

"Who're you?" he questioned grumpily.

"Cynthia," she replied, receiving a frown of surprise from her American accent.

He sneered, "You must be new here, because I'm Delroy Durshley, and you need a lesson."

"Delroy? Really? What kind of idiotic parent names his kid Delroy?"

"My dad isn't an idiot!" He approached her and clumsily swung his fist at her face. She deftly caught it.

Cynthia was getting comfortable. Dealing with bullies was always interesting. "Durshley, Durshley... You know, that rings a bell. I think my dad just got transferred to a position above a Durshley." At this she wasn't bluffing. He had told her that he was the boss of a Dudley Durshley.

"You're bluffing."

"Actually, I'm not. Isn't your dad's name Dudley Durshley? It's not really a common name..."

His nose curled up. "Why would I care?"

"Because if my dad is the boss of your dad, I could put in that I met this _really _mean kid at the park who said his name was Durshley. Pushing around defenseless kids with his dad watching over him..."

"But he isn't," Delroy said stupidly.

She grinned wickedly. "Oh, well I'm pretty good at stretching the truth... and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't like it if you had to be transferred to a public school because your dad lost his job..."

He removed his fist from her hand. "Also, maybe you should stop bullying kids. I'll be out most of the time, and either way, I am a York. They aren't stretching the truth when they say that we're ruthless."

"I doubt you could land a solid blow on him, being a girl," one of the skinnier boys piped up snidely.

Suddenly, all of them fell over. "Whoa!" With that, they ran.

"Um, C - Cynthia?"

"Yes?"

The little boy was wide-eyed. "H - how'd you d - do that? I - I mean, knock them a - all over?"

"I didn't. Delroy must've tripped or something."

"I - it didn't s - seem that way."

She looked at him, half annoyed, half flattered. "What's your name?"

"N - Noah Jackson."

"Don't let those guys mess with you again. Just say you'll tell me, and they'll go running."

He still looked worried. "B-but what if t-they don't?"

"They will. I'm going to go home."

She started walking back to her house, then telling her dad she had a new friend - Noah. Then she retreated into her room. She stayed in there for hours, playing constant rounds of solitaire until her dad called her for dinner. He decided to cook her old favorite - spaghetti.

"Thanks," she told him without enthusiasm. She ate it all, though, and asked for seconds. Just then, someone knocked on the door. Her dad cast a fleeting glance towards Cynthia, guessing that it was Noah. Instead, it was someone dressed strangely.

"My name is Professor Midgen, Head of Hufflepuff house at Hogwarts School and the professor of Muggle Studies," said the woman. She had dirty blonde hair that curled lightly to her elbow, and was dressed in soft yellow robes. She looked a little younger than forty.

"Hello Professor Midgen. I'm Cynthia, I don't know what a Hufflepuff house is, nor do I know what a muggle is, let alone why it should be studied. I've also never heard of Hogwarts School." Professor Midgen smiled.

"Here," she giggled as she handed Cynthia a letter written in emerald green ink, addressed to Cynthia Chudamani, Number 17 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England.

"But we only got here yesterday. There's no way this could be here. I haven't even been able to tell my friends our new address," protested a confused Cynthia. Then she shrugged and broke the red wax seal on the back. She unfolded the letter inside, then frowned. "I'm hoping this isn't a practical joke." She passed the letter to her dad, who gagged.

"Of course this is a practical joke! There's no such thing as magic!"

Cynthia glanced quizzically at the Professor. "Is this real?"

The woman nodded, still smiling. "It's not. If it is, why don't you prove it," her father snorted.

Professor Midgen raised her wand, pointed it at the glass of Barq's rootbeer still in Cynthia's hand, and whispered, "Wimgardian Leviosa." The glass started levitating. Cynthia examined it closely, dropping her hand. She walked away from the glass, into the kitchen, grabbed a steak knife, and started slashing above, below, and to the sides of the glass.

"Cool." Cynthia's father, however, was beside himself.

"Wha -? H - how...? And Tia? B-but -"

"I didn't know about this until you did, dad." Cynthia turned to the yellow-robed witch. "I don't think that witches and wizards would use the same currency as the rest of London."

The professor's smile widened. "You're absolutely correct." She pulled out three coins. "The gold ones are Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles, and the copper ones are Knuts. One Galleon is worth seventeen Sickles, and one Sickle is worth twenty-nine Knuts. So a Galleon would be worth -"

"Four hundred and ninety-three Knuts," Cynthia interrupted.

"Yes."

The eleven-year old girl frowned, thinking. "But I have no Galleons, Sickles, or Knuts, and I won't accept any money from anyone. And from this list -" she brandished the school list "- it'll probably be a lot."

"You have a school bank account at Gringotts."

"When are we going?"

"Now, I would assume, that is, if your father doesn't mind."

They both looked at him, and he shook his head. "I-I don't mind. Just need to wrap my head around it. My Tia... a witch..."

"Shall we go, then?"

* * *

_I would write more, but I need to sleep (unfortunately). Although it's likely I'll be up at midnight, back on the computer writing._

_Anyway... hope you enjoyed. If you couldn't tell, this is set when it's Albus's first year - Harry's son. Also, Professor Midgen is actually a character mentioned throughout the fourth book._

_How did I know this? I was reading it, that how. Duh._

_Anyway, got two minutes to 'sleep'. G'night._

_-AC_


	2. Diagon Alley Part 1

_Not much of an A/N._

_Disclaimer - Harry Potter? Mine? You're insane too!_

* * *

"Shall we go then?" wondered Professor Midgen. Cynthia and her dad nodded, then, in a flash of light, the professor changed from her yellow robes to light blue jeans, a light yellow cotton shirt, and white sneakers. The three of them got into the black Fiat 500, and Professor Midgen gave polite instructions to Roberto, Cynthia's dad, and told him to park on Charing Cross Road in London.

The walked at a brisk pace while the eleven-year-old girl assaulted the blonde witch with questions.

"Will I be able to see you often in school?"

The professor shook her head. "No." Then she smiled fondly. "You won't see much of me until your third year, if you decide to take Muggle Studies. Unless, of course, you're in Hufflepuff."

"What are the other options?"

"There are four houses in Hogwarts; Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. You'll be sorted into one of those four."

Cynthia thought for a second, then questioned, "How do they decide which one you're in? Your favorite color or animal?"

Professor Midgen shook her head. "Your _personality_, Cynthia."

"What personality traits do you have to be to get in each house?"

"To be in Gryffindor, you have to be brave. Ravenclaw is the one you'd most likely be in - for the clever or smart. And to be in Slytherin, you'd have to be pureblood, I think. I'm not quite sure, actually. And Hufflepuff is for the just and loyal."

"Pureblood?"

"It's where at least five generations of witches and wizards have no Muggle blood. A half-blood is where one of their parents is a Muggle or Muggle-born and the other is a pureblood wizard. You, Cynthia, are a Muggle-born, a witch or wizard who is born from two Muggles. Ah, here we are." She turned to a dingy-looking pub. Cynthia looked up at the sign, somehow able to read the half-faded letters of 'The Leaky Cauldron'.

Roberto looked disbelievingly at the Leaky Cauldron. All the other people around them didn't seem to see it. Cynthia did not doubt that, if her and her father were walking of their own accord on Charing Cross Road, they wouldn't have seen it. The closest they would possibly get would be the bookstore because of the eleven year old girl's reading habit.

The three of them walked in, and a medium blonde woman behind the counter called, "Hello, Eloise. I see you've got another Muggle-born. Off to get her school supplies, then?"

"Yes, I am. I hope you enjoy your day, Hannah," Professor Midgen replied.

Hannah shook her head and replied, "All this gossip of the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, retiring, is ringing through this place like a church bell."

"They have to come from somewhere, don't they?"

Hannah sighed. "I guess so. Who're you taking now?"

"My name's Cynthia," Cynthia spoke up, annoyed.

The pub owner smiled. "Well, Cynthia, this is the Leaky Cauldron. If you need somewhere to stay at any point, we have rooms available upstairs."

The young girl gave a small, annoyed smile, then replied in a seemingly sincere and sorry voice, "That is, if I'm not staying with my dad, of course."

Hannah's smile faltered, and she didn't say anything. Cynthia studied her, then apologized, "Sorry to be rude, I just wanted see your reaction. You didn't seem to react to my American accent."

A woman with frizzy black hair, deep brown eyes, and a small smile approached Cynthia. "Hello. My name is Millie Panzarella, but you'll know me as Professor Panzarella in school. I am Head of Ravenclaw House, and I teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts. I do think you'll make an excellent addition to Ravenclaw."

Cynthia bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood. A smart comment was hovering on the tip of her tongue. She knew she would probably get in trouble for saying what was on her mind.

But Panzarella noticed and told her, "Is there something troubling you, Cynthia?"

"Isn't something troubling everyone?" She used her question as an answer. "Do you know for certain that I will be in Ravenclaw just because I ask questions? Do you truly know the depths of my personality? I don't know what you've gone through, Professor, and I don't know who you are simply based on the fact that you are Head of House of Ravenclaw in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Roberto looked at Cynthia, appalled. He wasn't the only one; the entire pub was staring at her, shocked. "Cynthia Crystal Chudamani -" he started.

"She is right. Those words of wisdom will not be held against her, Mr. -?"

"Roberto."

"Do you know why she says that?"

"Because I hate stereotypes, people judging me when they don't know me, possibly being ignored when I can answer more about myself then my father can," piped in an annoyed Cynthia. "I think that the sun would be setting soon - we should get my stuff _before_ it does."

"Good point, Cynthia," Professor Midgen added swiftly. "Let's go." So Roberto, Cynthia, and Midgen walked out the back door and into a small courtyard. The blonde witch pulled out her wand and walked over to the trash cans. Cynthia watched as she counted three up and two over, then tapped it three times in quick succession. Then a pathway formed as bricks rolled to the side to form two pillars.

"Wow..." Cynthia's eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets. Just past the brick pillars was a bustling street, red and orange in the dying sunlight. "We're going to need wizard money, right?"

"Right." They started walking down the street to the huge white building. Cynthia looked on either side, curious. There was a sale on scarab beetles and hummingbird eyes, and there was a large group outside a store, Quality Quidditch Supplies. Through the window of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, a boy around her age with untidy black hair and jade green eyes was having his arm measured while talking to his dad, who looked remarkably like him, beside the glasses and strangely shaped scar on his forehead.

* * *

_Short chapter? Yes. But it's here. I'll finish Diagon Alley later - I hope you enjoyed this chapter, at least._

_-AC_


	3. Diagon Alley Part 2

_Next chapter? Here? Now? AWESOME. At least, I think so... Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"Whose that?" wondered Cynthia, pointing to Madam Malkin's.

Professor Midgen looked, then stopped. "Him? He's Harry Potter."

"Why'd we stop for Harry Potter?"

"He's the most famous wizard in the world. He was in Gryffindor and in my year in Hogwarts."

"Why's he famous?" The questions wouldn't stop.

"Because he survived the Killing Curse at age one. Then he continued to defeat the person who tried to cast it upon him _throughout his school years_. That person was You-Know-Who." They had stopped looking through the window of Madam Malkin's and were looking at each other.

Cynthia frowned, then replied, "Actually, I don't know who."

Someone chuckled behind them. Cynthia whipped around, while Professor Midgen simply turned. Now in front of them was a group of five people, one of whom they were talking about. There was Harry Potter standing next to a woman who was slightly shorter with flaming red hair and chocolate brown eyes. There was a boy, probably a bit older than Cynthia, who had brown hair and the same eyes as her mother. Next to him was the boy she saw getting his arm measured - messy black hair, emerald green eyes. And there was a girl, probably one or two years younger than the American, who looked a lot like a younger version of her mother.

"I'm Harry Potter," he introduced. "This is my wife, Ginny, my oldest son, James, my second oldest, Albus, and this is Lily."

"I'm Cynthia, and that's my dad, Roberto."

"Hello, Harry," greeted Professor Midgen.

"Eloise? Blimey it's been a long time." The two adult witches and adult wizard started talking. However, Ginny told her three kids to stay there and perhaps try to become friends with Cynthia.

"I know he said I'm James, but I prefer Jimmy. Are you from America?"

Cynthia rolled her eyes and responded sarcastically, "Well, no, I just have an American accent when I'm in England."

Lily and Jimmy started laughing, but Albus stayed quiet, looking thoughtful. "Why is an American going to a British school of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Aren't there schools in America?"

"I don't know. We moved here because dad got a promotion - I'm a 'Muggle-born'. We were getting my school supplies."

"We just came out of Madam Malkin's for my robes. Maybe if we ask our dads we could go with you for your supplies."

"We still have to go to the bank - I don't have any wizard money."

Albus looked a little disappointed. "Oh. Okay."

She looked at his face, and told him, "You want a friend before you go to school so that way you won't be alone, right?"

He looked shocked, then he nodded mutely. "I don't know how to get to school, so..."

"Oh, it's by train. We go to Platform 9 3/4," put in Jimmy.

Cynthia looked annoyed, but revised, "I don't know how to get to Platform 9 3/4. Maybe your family can help me and my dad."

"Alright."

As there was a small standing point in the adults' conversation, Cynthia piped up, "I still don't know who You-Know-Who is."

"Voldemort," answered Harry, bending down to meet eye to eye with her. "People are afraid to say the name even though he's dead."

"Why would anyone be afraid to say a simple name?"

He smiled. "I don't know. I only called him 'You-Know-Who' when I had to - I didn't really care."

Roberto came up from behind Cynthia and put a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were still sparking with curiosity, and the tip of her tongue was heavy with questions, but she waved goodbye to the three Potter kids as she felt herself being steered away. She heard a chorus of 'Ooooooh' from Jimmy and Lily, and Albus muttered, "Shut up," and pushed Jimmy to the side.

As they walked into Gringotts, Cynthia looked up and read the words engraved into the top of the arch - _Fortius Quo Fidelius_. "That's Latin," she pointed out. "I'm pretty sure the first word is 'strength'."

Professor Midgen looked amazed. "How did you -?"

"_Fortius_ is similar to 'fortify', which is a simile of 'strength', Professor."

"Quite right, Cynthia. I would award five points, but I don't yet know what House you'll be in, though we have a pretty fair guess."

"Ravenclaw?" The professor nodded. "Wasn't there ever a person, witch or wizard, who had the brains of one in Ravenclaw but was in another house?"

Eloise Midgen frowned. "Well, yes. Hermione Granger, one of Harry Potter's friends in Gryffindor."

"Well, I could be in Ravenclaw, there's a good chance of that, but I could be in any other house."

"So," Professor Midgen assumed, "you want to be just like Hermione Granger?"

Roberto shook his head and hurriedly corrected, "No, she doesn't want to be just like Hermione Granger, Eloise. She doesn't want to be just like anyone - except herself."

Cynthia would've nodded an affirmative, but she was distracted by the goblins behind the white marble desks. "Are those -?"

"Goblins, yes."

They approached the nearest available goblin, and Professor Midgen cleared her throat loudly. The goblin looked up, saying, "Yes?"

In a formal voice, the professor clearly stated, "We're opening Cynthia Chudamani's school bank account."

"Do you have a key?" drawled the goblin.

"Yes." She took her wand out, flicked it silently in the air, and a key dropped into her hand. "Here you go."

He examined the key with a practiced eye, then told them, "Everything seems in order. Wallvault!" Another goblin came running. "Take the wizards to school bank account 518," the first goblin ordered. Then he handed the key back to Professor Midgen.

They walked through a gate, then rounded a corner. "Everyone in the cart, please," Wallvault squeaked. After everyone clambered in, the goblin warned, "You may want to hold on." Then the cart burst of at an unsteady speed into the darkness. Cynthia felt as though she was on an extremely old roller coaster made of rotted wood.

"Have there ever been fatalities on this thing?" she near-shouted.

"Not in thirty years," Wallvault replied.

They screeched to a sudden halt as they got to vault 518. They all scrambled out, and Wallvault politely asked for the key. He removed a sort of rock flap the covered the keyhole, then stuck in the key and gave it an expert twist. The vault door opened, revealing a small pile of gold, a slightly larger pile of silver, and the largest pile was of bronze.

"Professor? How much of this will I need?"

Professor Midgen strode over and counted all of the money in each of the piles. "Why don't you choose?"

Cynthia soon picked up as much gold, silver, and bronze that would fit in the medium-sized jean purse she asked the professor to conjure, and they got back into the cart. Once they were back up to the surface, they immediately went to Madam Malkin's.

A little bell rang as they walked in. "Hogwarts, I presume?" A fairly old woman was sitting in a corner.

"Yes."

"Then stand on the pedestal, won't you?" She then draped an extremely large robe over Cynthia's head. She pinned it down to just below the ankles, and the arms, which drooped about twice the size of Cynthia's arms, was pinned to just after the wrist. A pair of scissors sliced the area just under the pins, creating the perfect robe for Cynthia.

The woman asked the little one to remove the robe, then she made two more exactly like it. She asked Cynthia to stand up there once more, and she made a cloak, with the necessary silver fastenings. She shrank a pointed hat, then had Cynthia try it on. It fit perfectly. The young witch thanked her and paid her.

They then went to Flourish and Blotts. "Wow..." Cynthia breathed. She ran her fingers along the edges of the books, occasionally wiping off a particularly dusty one to read the title. Her sharp eyes ran across each letter quickly, absorbing all there was. She would pull a few out and read the summary, her eyes flicking from line to line. Eventually, a worker noticed how much she was interested in books.

They were looking at the books together, him sometimes making suggestions, her snatching the book from the shelf and reading the back. Professor Midgen and Roberto were sitting in plush chairs, watching her progress.

"She'd stay in here forever, read every book, no matter how boring, and relate one to another. Then she'd write a spin-off, maybe a fanfiction or something."

"She writes?"

"Oh yes, often. She keeps me out of it, but it more than often relates her emotions at that moment in time, so I have no doubt that the main character is going through a hard time in that story of hers."

Professor Midgen frowned. "Why?"

The corners of his mouth tugged down a little. "Well, her mother got in a nasty car accident two months ago..."

The professor's hand was over her mouth and her eyes were wide.

"It doesn't help when I got transferred here, but I expect Hogwarts will help. She had a lot of friends in Georgia, and misses them a lot. And she's always been closer with her mother. I don't think she's smiled in the two months since she found out."

They glanced over to her, and she was having an intelligent conversation with the worker about Albert Einstein. "On a T.V. show I was watching, they said that his brain was wired differently - they said that it could be that he was part of a genetic mutation from extraterrestrials, that's why he was a genius..."

Roberto shook his head. "She has this burning curiosity, a desire to know everything. She stands up for others, she loathes bullies. Figures you have better things to do then tease and boss around others. She also loves nature and animals. The only thing that won't stand with her around would be anyone who deserves it. But she spends most of her time alone, she doesn't make friends easily. She said she made a friend named Noah after spending ten minutes outside - highly unlikely. And she's very brave - she's been putting on a brave face in the prospect of moving away from her friends, going to a school that isn't public."

Just then, Cynthia appeared with the joy of a young child in her eyes. But the joy slid away as she saw their falsely happy expressions. "You were talking about me and mom," she guessed with surprising accuracy.

"No, we weren't," Professor Midgen told her quickly.

"You're lying."

"I assure you, I'm not lying -"

"You are, Professor. I'm sure it's to keep my emotions and trust intact, but I can tell when someone's lying. Normally they reply quickly, break eye contact for just a second, crack their knuckles, bite their lip, chew their fingernails, or some other nervous habit. And you just so happen have the habit of replying to fast and scratching your forearm, Professor. Anyway, I told Mr. Edwards that we'd be back for the books because I want to see how many I can buy along with my other school supplies."

They then went to Potage's Cauldron Shop, where Cynthia bought the required size two pewter cauldron, then quickly left. Afterwards, the professor led them the Slug and Jigger's Apothecary, where she asked for a basic potion set, bought glass phials (which were cheaper than the crystal ones), brass scales, and the cheapest telescope, which was brass and collapsible.

When they stopped by Magical Menagerie, Cynthia decided she would rather an owl than anything, so she went to Eeylops Owl Emporium. Her attention was immediately caught by a fiery-orange owl with small, sparse black spots. It was listed as vulnerable, not endangered, so she got the female Madagascar Red Owl for a much cheaper price than Cynthia imagined. She wanted a name based on her appearance - after a while, she decided on a name - Lehava, meaning 'flame' from Hebrew origin.

Finally it came time for a wand, so Professor Midgen led them to Ollivanders. It looked like it was a little newer than the golden letters said: _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ It looked like dust had accumulated for about twenty years, though, and when they walked inside, a tinkling little bell told of their presence. Even still, it seemed abandoned.

Cynthia could feel magic pulsating from every speck of dust in this room, and she tentatively called out, "Hello?"

Instantly an extremely old man with wide, pale eyes that reminded her of the moon came over. "Hello. I am Mr. Ollivander. What might your name be?"

"Cynthia," she replied.

"And your last?"

"Chudamani."

He nodded. "American accent, Italian heritage, and in Britain..." He started using a tape measure, and every inch of her arms, legs, and face were measured from different lengths. She noticed when the man went over to the huge piles of wands that the tape measure was measuring the length of her foot. When it finally stopped, the man handed her a grayish wand. "Norwegian spruce, nine and a quarter inches, Norwegian Ridgeback dragon heartstring. Flexible, good for Charms. Go on, give it a wave."

She did a simple flick towards a flowerpot, and it shattered. "Nope, not that one." He snatched it back and placed it on a spindly chair that was in a corner. He fluttered his hands over the narrow boxes, then snatched one. He rushed over to her, opened the box, and handed her another wand. "Italian cypress, twelve and a half inches, unicorn tail hair. Rigid, good for Herbology."

Again, Cynthia did a simple flick - and papers flew everywhere. This cycle happened for a while - he would find a wand, explain exactly what it was, hand it to her, she'd give it a simple flick, and something not so good would happen. Eventually, he told her, "I haven't had a wand challenge this hard since a lycanthrope - are you a lycanthrope?"

"I don't believe so. I haven't undergone any wolfish changes at a full moon, if that's what you mean."

"Right, right... Ah, how about this one?" He pulled out an extremely dusty box, as though it hadn't been touched for centuries. The wand had a slightly reddish hue, seemed a bit thicker than the other wands, and was a bit longer. "Giant sequoia, fourteen inches, hair from the mane of an alphyn." At this, Professor Midgen stifled a gasp. "Slightly springy, good for defensive and offensive spells." He handed it reverently to her, and immediately she felt a sense of power and rightness from this wand. She flicked it at the window, and it seemed to have started glowing.

Both Ollivander's and Professor Midgen's eyes widened. "Well... we can expect great things from you, Miss Chudamani."

"Mr. Ollivander, what is an alphyn?"

"A wolf creature that sports a dragon's scaly underbelly and forearms. It has a lion's tail, and is extremely rare. It has a thick mane and a thin tongue, and is able to breathe fire, but has no wings and cannot fly. Mixed with such a large and old type of wood, it is very powerful. Very dangerous to make."

"Is it a type of wand you would normally expect with a Dark witch or wizard, or otherwise a power-seeking one?"

Her spot-on accuracy appalled Ollivander, and for a moment he was speechless. During that time, Roberto put two and two together and exclaimed, "My daughter isn't power-seeking at all, Mr. Ollivander. She desires knowledge and her greatest fear would probably be losing loved ones and friends. She'll risk her own neck for anyone as long as they don't deserve what's coming for them."

"Spot on, dad," she muttered, her voice cracking as she hovered over the 'greatest fear' part. She quickly paid for the wand and rushed out, a teardrop landing on the dusty floor.

She ran to Flourish and Blotts, picked up all of her school books, plus _Hogwarts, A History_, and _Unique Wand Elements: How Powerful is Your Wand?_ She paid hurriedly and walked back out, bumping into Professor Midgen and Roberto on her way out.

Cynthia had a single tear streak down her cheek, but now her face was carefully void of any emotion. Her heart felt heavy and her throat felt clogged up, and she knew the tears were hovering behind a thin wall. She felt extremely tired even though it was only eight in England, three in America. As soon as she and Roberto got home, she disappeared into her room.

She had packed all of her wizarding things into a large black duffel, along with her iPod. She planned to pack her laptop and her phone on August thirty-first. She let out Lehava to hunt, presumably mice, and fell asleep.

* * *

_Cynthia isn't the only who's tired - I'm ready to plop. Well, goodnight, and hope you liked the chapter._

_-AC_


	4. Return to Diagon Alley

_I don't know when this will be up. After this I'm waiting for signs of life to post new chapters, those reading this amazing story. Even if I'm pretty sure you're reading it, it's still nice to come back and see all these jolly faces saying 'good story' or 'maybe this could happen please?' or even 'this story sucks' because that's a sign of life._

_Disclaimer - I, however much I want to, do not actually own the Harry Potter world, or some/most of the characters, but the plot and the main character is MINE, all MINE! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!_

* * *

Cynthia woke up with the sun streaming in her eyes. She glanced at her alarm clock on her nightstand; 11:30. She was already getting used to the time difference, hour by hour.

Suddenly, her dad walked in. "Oh, I was just about to wake you up. I was thinking, well, maybe we could go back to Dragon Alley."

"Diagon, dad," she instantly corrected. "It's Diagon Alley. But why would we need to go back to Diagon Alley? I've got all my school stuff."

"Well..." he started. "I heard that there was a really good joke shop there. We didn't get enough time to check it out, and I thought you might need a laugh."

"It's been a while since I laughed, dad. I'm not used to it," she told him, standing up.

He smiled mischievously. "Then it's high time you did." He crossed over to her, then swept her up by her knees, plopped her on her bed, then started tickling her feet.

The reaction was immediate. She started laughing her head of, writhing to get out of his grip, and screamed, "Daddy, stop it!" Her feet wasn't the only place that was attacked by the tickle monster. He moved up to her stomach, her neck, and her armpits. Soon Roberto was tickling each of those three in a random order, keeping her from being able to escape her grip.

He was slowing down, then Cynthia's little hand shot up and started tickling him on his neck. He burst out laughing, and they switched places. She was having fun for the first time since her mom got in that extremely nasty car accident. But she wasn't thinking of that. She was only eleven, after all, and going two months without laughing or truly smiling is a long time for one so young.

After a brief break for morning necessities, they hopped in the car and drove to London. After they parked, Cynthia jumped on Roberto's back for a piggy back ride. They burst into the Leaky Cauldron laughing, and the eleven-year-old witch waved cheerfully to Hannah. Through the backdoor, to the courtyard, and to the corner where the trash cans were.

"Three up and two across and three taps on that brick, dad!" she squealed, handing her dad her wand.

"Two up and three across?"

"No, three up and two across!"

"Three across and two up?"

"Dad!"

He chuckled, then followed her instructions. He handed her the wand, then bounded down the street, apparently in a big panic. Eventually he approached a kindly face, with brown hair and brown eyes, wearing black robes with red trim. He looked about the age of Professor Midgen.

"Excuse me sir, but have you seen my daughter? She's eleven years old, about this tall, with brownish-red hair and brownish-green eyes?" His eyes were wide, but the said girl was behind his shoulder, giggling.

"By what name does she go by?"

"Cynthia. Please tell me if you see her!"

"I believe she's right behind you," he told Roberto, smiling.

His eyes grew wider. "Really?" He turned around, but, not seeing her, spun around in a large circle. Then he did a ninja move and brought her from his back and into his arms. Then he held her upside down by her knees, then she crossed her arms and made a fake frowny-face.

"Dad, put me down."

He sighed. "Alright." Then he flipped her over and dropped her, and she landed on her feet.

"I am Neville Longbottom, or, if you're starting at Hogwarts, Professor Longbottom," the kindly-faced man introduced.

Cynthia smiled. "Well then hello, Professor Longbottom. We were going to the joke shop for a few laughs."

"I don't think you need to go to a joke shop for that," Professor Longbottom pointed out.

She phony scowled at Roberto. "Dad cheated."

Both men chuckled. Professor Longbottom started walking away, saying, "I hope you have fun at the joke shop!"

Then the two walked towards the huge shop that said 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes'.

* * *

_Short, not well detailed, but here. R&R for more!_

_-AC_


	5. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes

_So, yet another chapter for your pretty little eyes to rest on. I have finally gotten a review after ALL this time (thank you LunaNinjaNerd) and I am so happy! HAPPY! And slightly crazy. As always._

_Disclaimer: Oh, yeah, I TOTALLY own Harry Potter. Came up with it myself. J.K. Rowling stole it before I was born._

* * *

The joke shop was overcrowded. Everyone was smiling and happy, laughing their heads off at the numerous items that constantly went off. Cynthia smiled around brightly until she saw most of the families had mothers laughing and smiling, enjoying themselves. Her previously good mood slipped away, the smile disappearing. Putting on an act, she told her dad that she was going to look at some stuff by herself. He nodded, then went to examine the Portable Swamp.

Cynthia went up to the highest level, and there were few people. They were all gathered around the Dungbombs, but she ignored them. She went the opposite direction, where there was no one around. This was probably because of a horrible scent, like a hundred skunks got hit by leaky cars and were in the worst state of decomposition. She didn't mind. She ignored it.

She sank down and followed her dad with her eyes. He was fascinated by some wands, but when he touched one, it turned into a rubber chicken. He laughed heartily, then moved on. Cynthia sat, watching his reactions to each joke item for about fifteen minutes. She lost track of her dad after that when he slipped into a crowd to look at love potions.

Just then, someone coughed next to her. She whipped her head towards the noise and saw a man, about thirty or forty, with blazing red hair, a large bout of freckles, was slender, and dressed in a suit that seemed to be made of dark green scales. He was missing an ear. "What you doin' up here in the stink?" he asked jokingly.

She faked a British accent, which was pretty believable, and answered, "I am sitting, thank you."

"What might your name be, sitting in the stink girl?"

She closed her eyes. "Cynthia."

"Alright Cynthia. My name is George Weasley, and I'm here to make you laugh and smile. You are not. Why aren't you? Is our stuff not good enough for you?"

"It's not that, Mr. Weasley. I haven't been in the best mood for a while now."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Lots of reasons."

He crouched down and looked at her, making eye contact. Her eyes were too solemn for a typical eleven-year old. There was a deep sadness there, like she had lost someone she loved dearly... His voice quieted considerably as he wondered, "Who was it?"

Her eyebrows quirked inward slightly as she considered the question. George studied her. She immediately knew exactly what he was talking about from his tone, but her eyes flicked over his face, searching his eyes for something, anything, that could possibly tie any sort of familiarity to him. He could tell she was immensely intelligent, almost like Hermione, but she didn't boast it. She wasn't an insufferable know-it-all as the bushy-haired girl was.

She sighed and accidentally slipped back into her American accent as she replied, "My mom."

His eyes widened slightly, but he ignored the accent. "And you were close to her." It wasn't a question, but she nodded an affirmative anyway. "I lost the closest friend, and the best brother, a while back. It takes a while, but you eventually figure out that their somewhere up there saying 'Have fun, and I'll see you later'."

She looked back into the crowd of people. "She is... _was_ the best. My mom was..." her voice cracked, she took a few seconds, then continued, "It's like a piece of my heart died with her." Her voice wavered, and tears were shimmering in her eyes, but she didn't let those tears fall.

He nodded in empathy. "Exactly." There was a brief moment of silence, then George inquired, "If you don't mind me asking, how long has it been?"

She shrugged. "A few months." The tears stung her eyes, and they caused the rich and strange color to sparkle. But she held them back.

"It took me a year and a half to get over Fred's passing. Don't let that happen to you, alright?" He looked at her. "I hardly know you Cynthia, but I do know that if don't let go of her, you'll only feel worse."

Cynthia looked at him again, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Okay." Then she busily wiped her eyes and cheeks, then stood up. "The point of this shop is to make me laugh and smile, right? Let's get to that." He popped up, and his expression turned from grief-stricken and consoling to cheerful and happy. But the somber look remained fixed in his eyes.

"So you're a York, huh? You got a sense of humor?"

"Sometimes," she responded. She glanced back towards the crowd, and almost immediately found her dad drifting towards the Skiving Snackboxes, free samples on a tray. "Uh, are those safe?" She pointed towards her dad, who was reaching towards an orange and purple one.

He nodded. "One hundred percent. He's your dad?" She nodded. "Just as long as he eats the orange end first, there'll be no problems." She glanced back, and saw that he was nibbling at the purple end.

"What happens if he eats the purple end before the orange one?"

George's response was, "The orange one makes you puke, and the purple one ends it."

She let out a puff of air in exasperation and darted down the stairs. _She's quick, _George noticed. She got to her dad in eight seconds, despite the crowd and the two flights of stairs. He saw her talking to her dad, pointing to the name of the sweet, what it did, and the clear instructions on what to do with the treat. She rolled her eyes to something that he had said.

The bell rang to signify another entrance, and George glanced over to see Harry, Ginny, James, Albus, and Lily add themselves to the crowd. Harry talked to the three kids, and James immediately rushed off to come find George, whereas Albus simply wandered. Lily was forced to stay at her mother's side.

Cynthia was drifting, taking interest in random things, but nothing quite catching her eye. She looked over her shoulder to make sure her dad wasn't not reading the instructions to the Skiving Snackboxes and accidentally bumped into someone.

"Sorry," she apologized quickly. She looked in front of her to see a familiar face. "Albus, right?"

He nodded. "You're Cynthia."

She nodded. "I noticed."

"I thought you did your school shopping yesterday." She nodded.

"My dad thought I needed cheering up, so we're here." Cynthia did a quick check around the pair of them. "Is your brother nearby?"

He nodded. "He's probably off to see Uncle George. Dad says that James is just like him, and that he's not sure if it's a good or bad thing."

"George Weasley's your uncle?"

He nodded. She looked back towards her dad. "Do you have to go?" He seemed slightly put out at that option, but she shook her head.

"I'm making sure he doesn't eat the purple end before the orange one." Albus gave a small smile. The two of them simply wandered, her asking the occasional question, him explaining a certain object, but a comfortable silence was the most of what happened. She found something that had caught her eye and she bought - a self-writing quill. Something that would probably come in useful later, at least until she converted to the quill and ink rather than the pen or pencil.

After about a half an hour, her father found her and told Cynthia that it was time to go. She waved goodbye to Albus, then went with her dad to the house.

* * *

_You probably want to get to the Hogwarts part, I know. But I found it necessary for this chapter to happen. So... yeah. _

_-AC_


	6. Hogwarts Express and Sorting

_Finally! We start at Hogwarts! Everyone yell and scream and be happy! YAY! _

_Disclaimer - Oblivious! You will completely forget that Harry Potter is not mine!_

* * *

Cynthia's eyes snapped open. She had hardly gotten any sleep, and whatever sleep she had was light. The minute birds started to sing their morning song in the very beginning of dawn, she figured that it was okay to get up.

She didn't need to glance at her calendar to know that today was September first. She slipped into a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt after a rushed shower, brushed her teeth, and swiped a brush through her hair. She rolled her suitcase next to her door, then glanced at the time. It was nearly seven. Her dad wouldn't be up until eight-thirty, if that, unless she woke him up.

Instead of childishly walking into his room and shaking him awake, she opened the fridge. Two eggs left, not nearly enough for two people. She looked at the loaf of bread that the pair of them had, and she pulled out the eggs. She cracked both of them into a bowl and used a fork to beat them. She grabbed four slices of bread and put it on a plate, and turned the stove up to medium.

After the butter on the pan melted, she carefully dipped a slice of bread into the eggs, flipped it over, then slapped it onto the pan. After four repeats, the French toast was finished, and there were two plates with two slices each. She topped both with syrup, poured two glasses of orange juice, and started towards her dad's room with one glass and one plate. She put the plate down on the nightstand, along with the glass of juice, then gently blew in his face.

His eyes flickered open, and a light frown crossed his face. "To what pleasure do I enjoy being woken up too early?" he inquired sarcastically.

She replied, "The pleasure of having breakfast in bed." His eyes fell on the plate of French toast and glass of orange juice, and the frown was replaced with a soft smile.

"Thanks, Cynthia." Her eyes lit up and the corners of her mouth lifted, just slightly. It was the happiness of approval, and he, who hardly got to see her and be able to spend time with her, found it perfect. It was finally a moment that he wished he had forever.

She brought in her plate and glass, sat with her legs folded on the carpeted floor, and began eating to enjoy the company of her dad. He realized that this was something she used to do with her mom, something that she hadn't previously shared with him. It was a sign that, not only was she moving on, but she was also trusting him with it.

When she was halfway through her first piece, he got down, picked up her plate, and put it next to him on the bed. The corners of her mouth lifted higher, and she clambered on the bed, sitting next to him. They enjoyed breakfast together, and afterwards, they just sat there in comfortable silence, something that could start a father-daughter bond more than anything.

"I'm going to miss you when you're at Hogwarts, Tia." She looked over, distracted from her random thoughts.

"I'm going to miss you too, dad."

He gave a small smile. "But hey, at least you'll be learning something I never got to. Magic, huh?"

"All I'm hoping is that it isn't too big - I'd _easily _get lost." He laughed, and she giggled softly. "Do you think she's watching?" He didn't need an explanation to know who she meant.

He nodded. "Of course. She would be very proud of you. And she would probably want you to be happy. In fact, _I_ want you to be happy. So I don't keep having to tickle you every time I want you to smile!" At the word 'tickle', he reached out and wiggled his fingers across her stomach, and she burst out laughing. He easily overpowered her when it came to tickling, and she soon had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard.

Eventually, his arm started cramping, so it died down, and the two of them grew quiet. When Cynthia glanced at the time, she gasped. "Dad, it's almost ten! The train leaves at eleven on the dot! We've got to go!" He looked over and realized that she was right.

"Okay. I'll get dressed, and you pack your stuff."

"Done."

"Um, you get your owl?"

"Also done."

He rolled his eyes. "Listen to your iPod for five minutes."

"Okay." She walked out the room, dug in her bag, and pulled out the iPod. She stuffed her earphones in and plopped down on the black leather couch in front of a digital clock with blue letters. Just before it ticked to 10:03, which was five minutes after her dad told her to wait for five minutes, he burst out of his room, fully clothed and recently shaved.

She popped up, grabbed her suitcase, and tugged open the door. He followed her, and locked it. They got in the car and got on the road. He encountered a lot of traffic, not uncommon for morning rush in London on a Friday. When they got to platforms nine and ten, Cynthia looked at the ticket that was handed to her by Professor Midgen.

"Platform 9 and 3/4? That's not a real thing!" She exclaimed. They looked around, and she recognized someone who was walking past them. "Dad, c'mon! I think we're supposed to go over there." She half-dragged him over to where they were walking past, and focused on the young boy that she recognized. A little red-haired girl hung on it, and she was evidently whining.

They obviously knew where they were going, and she saw James appear. He took a cart from his mother, and he tossed a smug look behind his back, then ran straight into the brick support.

"Magic... to get on a train..." Roberto breathed. After they all went through, Cynthia purposefully started walking, ignoring everyone around her besides her father, who expected full impact. Instead, they passed through, white steam everywhere. She glanced at her blue, American-made watch. It was two to eleven.

"I love you dad." She hugged him tightly and fiercely, then trudged off to the scarlet train, owl cage in one hand and suitcase in another. He watched as she went, already feeling a slight ache in his heart. The train whistled, and he saw Cynthia's head poke out of a window. "Bye dad!" she yelled.

He waved and yelled back, "Bye, Tia!" And the train turned the corner.

She removed her head from the window, then walked down the aisle. All of the compartments were full, not a single one was empty. She finally found one with a fair-haired young boy and no one else, and she opened the door. "Do you mind if I sit in here?" she questioned. He jolted in surprise and looked up from the window. He nodded once, then returned his gaze to the window.

After pulling out a book called _Hogwarts, a History_, she shoved her suitcase into the overhead compartment and plopped herself down, close to the door. She didn't have to give more than a glance towards his robes that he was rich, probably a pureblood. She guessed that he'd be revolted to have a Muggle-born like her in his compartment.

Not even five minutes passed until two first-years, a boy and a girl, opened the door. "Is it alright if we sit here?" the boy wondered nervously. She realized that he was Albus Potter.

"Not at all. But it'd be up to him," Cynthia nodded towards the blonde boy, "because he was here first." He looked up, and nodded. But the girl was frozen.

"You're Scorpius Malfoy." He cringed slightly at his last name, but he nodded.

Cynthia looked obviously between the three people in front of me. To break the tension and silence, she admitted, "Okay, I'm lost. Why is being a Malfoy enough to make you cringe or for her to stop coming in?"

"It's our family name. We've got a reputation for being pureblood snobs that are always in Slytherin." Scorpius's voice was sad near the end.

Cynthia shrugged. "Okay. And I'm an American. I'm not some sort of barbarian as you might see me, and not every British person is sitting around drinking tea with the queen as the popular belief in America is."

The three of them stared at her. "What're you trying to say?" Scorpius wondered hopefully.

"I'm trying to say that everyone makes his or her own path. You can stick to your family reputation, or you can be yourself and be whoever you want. Who cares what others think - its the common belief that you must go with what everyone thinks of you, but you don't."

After a brief moment of silence, Scorpius replied, "Yeah. I think that's right. Maybe that would be good."

"Are you saying that you don't want to live up to the Malfoy name?" the girl inquired.

He nodded. "I'd rather be whoever I want, not what my name says."

"Alright. I'm Rose Weasley, and this is Albus Potter," the girl introduced.

"I'm Cy - uh, Tia Chudamani."

Albus looked slightly mystified. "I thought your name was Cynthia."

"It is, but my nickname is Tia."

They then sat down. "Is that _Hogwarts, a History_?" asked Rose.

"Yeah. I figured that it may be a good idea to know about the school before hand. I had no idea it would be a castle!"

Scorpius looked up. "So you're a Muggle-born?"

"Mm... yeah."

There was a tense silence before his face split into a smile and he responded, "Cool." Then the tension dissolved, and they started talking, from everything from being sorted to stories about the neighbor's cousin's friend's older brother who was accidently transfigured into a quill. When the snack cart came around, Scorpius pulled out his gold.

"Um, we'll get four of each."

Cynthia shook her head. "No, I'll just -"

"I want to do it," he stubbornly said. With a slight huff of irritation, they allowed him to get four of each.

"When they say every flavor, do they mean _every_ flavor?" questioned a curious Cynthia.

"Yup. There's the regular flavors like peppermint and chocolate and cherry, but there's also vomit and earwax and pepper. It's a flavorful adventure," Scorpius answered. They all burst out laughing.

"You've got a sense of humor," announced a surprised Rose.

"Why not?" Albus wondered. "He could be funny if he wants to, Rose. Don't judge on his dad."

Cynthia realized that the conflict involving Malfoys went farther than just the name. "You're parents had trouble with his, huh? So that would mean that Rose could be raised to be cautious around Malfoys. It's not bad, but not good either. You need to give Rose a chance, and the same the other way, Rose. Scorpius could be whoever he wants, even if it's living up to his name. Until he does something bad to you, don't judge him."

They stared at her again. Eventually, Scorpius whispered, "You'll be in Ravenclaw, right?"

"Maybe," Cynthia shrugged. "I don't know. I could be in Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor, or even Slytherin. There's a one in four chance for each of the houses. We could be in any. I mean, there is four of us. Maybe we'll be sorted into every one, one per house. Either way, I'll be friends with you if you're friends with me."

They all nodded in agreement. They went back to their discussion while eating sweets. At one point Cynthia popped a black one in her mouth and gagged. "What was it?" Rose wondered.

After a minute of her gulping pumpkin juice, which she was surprised she liked, she forced out, "Black licorice."

There was a second where no one spoke, but Rose giggled, and Albus chuckled. Soon everyone was laughing as hard as they could, in good spirits. They were soon full of treats, and they stuck the remainder into their bags. Night was falling, and everyone besides Rose, who was already in her Hogwarts robes, changed.

Finally, a voice crackled, "Please leave your items and pets on the train, they will be put in your rooms."

Obliging, the four got off the train without their luggage. They heard a voice calling out, "First years, this way! This way, first years!" They came up to a professor wearing black robes with red silk on the inside. "Hello, young ones. I am Professor Hultrun. I will be your Care of Magical Creatures professor if you choose to be in it come third year. Is everyone here? Good. Let's go."

They approached a lake that was so still, it reflected the night sky. There was a small colony of boats there, and Professor Hultrun announced, "Four to a boat!" Rose, Scorpius, Albus, and Cynthia climbed into one, and as soon as the entire first year was situated, the boats magically started sailing across. At one point, there was a large splash to the right of all the kids, and they saw a large dark tentacle slide down into the water.

"A giant squid?" Cynthia whispered. Scorpius nodded, staring unfocusedly at the ripples extending from the place where the tentacle disappeared. Eventually, they got led into the huge castle, which was shimmering with lights. It looked grander than the Taj Mahale, to say the least. "I am definitely going to get lost," Cynthia admitted.

A strict-looking professor, who was female and wearing similar robes as Professor Hultrun, the only difference being green silk shining from beneath her robes rather than red, told him, "I'll take it from here, Jonathan." She turned her gaze on the first years. "I am Professor Darong, your Charms professor. I will let you know now that whichever house you get sorted into, you will be punished for breaking rules, and points will be taken away. If you do exceedingly well, points will be rewarded. As for the houses, you will be sorted into them shortly. There's Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor." The slightest hint of disdain was heard with the last option. "I will go see if they are ready for you yet." With that, she departed quickly through huge oak doors.

There was dead silence throughout the first years, until Scorpius mentioned, "Well, _I_ don't want to get on her bad side." There was a few good laughs, then Professor Darong came back.

"Please get in a single-file line and follow me." Everyone hastened to follow her orders, and were tripping on their robes as they complied. There was a long row of teachers, and in front of them was a three-legged stool with a dirty and ripped hat on it.

Suddenly, with a tear near the brim that obviously served as a mouth, it started to sing.

_"Oh I might not look like much,  
Just a dirty old hat,  
My old master thought like that  
And ended up with a crutch._

_Whoever you are, I'll know,  
To which House you shall go,  
Be it Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, or Hufflepuff,  
Soon you'll find you won't know enough,  
Especially if your Ravenclaw,  
Where it's said knowledge rules them all,  
If your Gryffindor you'll find,  
Brave is valued over mind,  
Hufflepuff is where you go to,  
For a true friend,  
For they are loyal through and through,  
And stick with you to the end,  
The Slytherins will see you to the top,  
For power is what they desire,  
Where you'll find your destiny  
May just lie here with me._

_So try me on,  
I'll do my best,  
For only I can know,  
Who you truly are, in your soul."_

"I'm a bit scared about the crutch part," Cynthia hissed. It went unnoticed among the high amount of whisperings there was after the hat's song.

"When I call your name, you will come up and put the hat on. Adler, Carissa!" She hesitantly went over to the hat, picked it up, sat on the stool, and dropped it over her head. It fell over to her neck, and it was hardly a second before it shouted out, "RAVENCLAW!"

"Alva, Katherine!"

A girl who was almost literally a twig tried on the hat, and it was half a minute before it called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Balder, Derek!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Burwood, Devon!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Bywater, Link!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Carder, Ashley!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Chudamani, Cynthia!"

With sweaty palms, the girl walked up to the hat, gulping as she sat down. The hat slipped over her head, and she heard a small voice say, "Mm, you're a tough one, aren't you?"

She thought, _Maybe_.

"You are quick-witted and smart, so Ravenclaw would suit you... yet you are unswaveringly loyal, so Hufflepuff wouldn't be a bad choice... and you are brave at heart, so Gryffindor would be good... where would you like to go?"

_I wouldn't mind any of them, really..._ were the words that ran through her mind. She realized that it was getting a bit long to have the hat on.

"You don't really want Ravenclaw, because that's what expected of you... you are spontaneous sometimes... mm... I think you'd be good in GRYFFINDOR!" The table cheered loudly, and Cynthia pulled off the hat.

"Fower, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The list went on, and eventually Professor Darong called out, "Potter, Albus!"

There was a minute, then the hat called, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The same was for Malfoy, Scorpius and Weasley, Rose was put in Ravenclaw. On Scorpius, the hat took a full ten minutes, and when he finally screamed out the house of the brave, almost everyone's mouths dropped, excluding Albus's, Cynthia's, and Rose's. Rose had the had on for less then a second before Ravenclaw was called. When it finally ended with a "Yearling, Kelly," who was sorted into Slytherin, the headmaster, who looked relatively young, announced, "Hello, and welcome to Hogwarts! May your years be filled with knowledge learned and happiness abundant. Now on to the feast!"

In front of them, food sprang forth, and they all dug in. However full they were on the train, it seemed to have disappeared. The other three congratulated Scorpius on being in Gryffindor as they stuffed their faces. Cynthia couldn't believe the quality of the food - it seemed to know what she wanted as a large pile of country-fried steaks appeared. Old-fashioned Pennsylvanian Birch Beer filled up her goblet. Nobody seemed to like the country-fried steaks besides herself, she noticed as she piled a third on her plate.

She guessed it was the American in her.

After a delicious desert, which was mint Oreo ice-cream cake for Cynthia, the prefects, called, "First years, follow us!"

They warned the first years about the moving staircases and told them that the password was 'Heart of a Lion'. They directed the girls to the left and the boys to the right, and the four followed those directions and fell asleep before their heads hit the pillows.

* * *

_Okay, I swear that Ravenclaw is my favorite house, but Gryffindor was necessary for this story. Isn't that oh-so-obvious. And, uh, I recently found out that you all following this story or adding this story to your favs... Yeah, you NEED to review. Even if it is only a '.' or a 'I'm here' or something like that. You don't have to give feedback. JUST LET ME KNOW THAT YOU'RE READING THIS STORY! Okay, bye!_

_-AC_


	7. NOT A CHAPTER

_Guys, I recently found out that you reading this story aren't reviewing. I found that I could find whose following and favoriting. And, uh, guess what? The next chapter isn't going up until you review. Even if it is an empty review or simply says, "I'm here", it's better then wondering if my story is actually being read. So review._


	8. Great Hall

_HAPPINESS! That notice I posted worked! Yeah! I didn't know I had __**that**__ many people reading this story! *Does weird victory dance*. I so happy! Four reviews and what I like to call an 'invisible review', where someone reviews over PM. FIVE REVIEWS IN ONE DAY! That is the best I ever got! That is awesome! I am inspired! _

_Oh, and I decided to put Rose in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. I'm going to change that right after I post this chapter..._

_Disclaimer - Is there a mental asylum nearby? Because if you think I own Harry Potter, I can drive you there._

* * *

Cynthia felt comfortable in her bed, draped in what felt like silky velvet. As she snuggled in closer to her pillows and sheets, she realized that her bed wasn't velvet. Now completely awake, she bolted upright in her bed, greeted by complete darkness. She guessed it was the middle of the night, and she started panicking. She stuck her hand out and met a curtain that seemed to be of the same material as her comforter. As she drew back the curtains, she breathed a sigh of relief. She recognized this place, now.

It was the first year girls' dormitory of Gryffindor house. She liked her privacy, and even changed into her pajamas the previous night with the curtains closed. She swung her small foot out of the bed, her bare toes sinking through the two inch thick plush golden carpet. Completely leaving the bed, she looked around her. There were seven twin-sized beds, and it seemed like she was the first on up, judging from the sleeping girls all piled in their beds. Each bed had a gold plate that had rubies spelling out their names - Cynthia, Emily, Gabriella, Hazel, Sky, Taylor, and Willow.

She drifted towards a window, which was tall and slightly larger than her head, and saw the sun just barely peeking out from behind mountains in the distance. She watched the deep purple of the sky turn to a lavender, then a rosy pink, which faded into a peachy orange, which deepened to a rich color of orange, then turned golden as the sun rose fully from behind those mountains.

"Whatcha doin'?" A voice wondered from behind her. She jumped and turned to find a young girl with long, smooth blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes.

Cynthia scowled. "I was watching the sunrise."

"Okay. I was thinking that we should go get breakfast before the table gets all filled up," the girl told her. Cynthia gave a quick glance towards the beds and noticed that the one labeled 'Gabriella' was now empty.

"Sure. I'm hungry," Cynthia agreed. Both of them went to their trunks and got changed, and Cynthia popped a piece of gum in her mouth. "Want one?" Gabriella shook her head. Then, the two of them picked their way down the stairs, getting to the nearly empty common room. There were two familiar boys, one with blonde hair that was nearly silver, and the other one with nearly pitch black hair. Before Gabriella could let out a greeting from two feet behind them, Cynthia put a finger to her lips. She tip-toed over to right behind them, then leaned forward and growled, "I'm hungry..." in her best monster voice. The two boys jumped so high Cynthia was sure their heads scraped the ceiling.

"Tia!" Albus protested. "You scared me!"

She shrugged. "You two were over here flirting, so I figured..."

Scorpius stepped up to her. "I appreciate your humor, but you aren't smiling, Tia."

When Cynthia was about to shrug again, Scorpius's hand shot out and met her stomach. When this happened, he started wiggling his fingers. She immediately crumpled down, laughing her head off. Scorpius, Albus, and Gabriella all laughed with her at the sight of her squirming. Eventually, he stopped tickling her, and she pushed herself up. Then she half-sprinted towards Scorpius and pushed him over, then ran over to the portrait hole and shoved it open.

He followed her and knocked her down on his way, and the two of them soon got into a shoving war. Albus and Gabriella trailed behind them.

"Hi, I'm Gabriella Thymus, but I prefer to be called Ella." She offered a hand to Albus.

He took it. "I'm Albus Potter, but I prefer to be called Al." Her eyes widened slightly at the 'Potter' part, but she otherwise didn't react.

"Funny how they're acting, isn't it?" she noticed, looking forward at them. He nodded, then looked around.

"I think we're lost," he told her. She looked around. There were millions of staircases above and below them, and nothing looked the same or familiar. Scorpius and Cynthia seemed to have noticed that, too.

"Guys!" Cynthia called up. "We're lost!"

Scorpius snorted. "Good observation skills, eh, Tia?" She elbowed him, and he winced and rubbed the side of his ribs.

"What should we do?" She inquired.

The four of them lapsed into silence, thinking of something to do. "Do you think we should shout and wait for someone?" Gabriella questioned.

"No, that's no good. We might wake someone up, and whoever would come may not be exactly friendly towards Gryffindors," Albus pointed out. They heard someone clearing their throat extremely close to them, and they all spun around crazily, not knowing who was making that sound.

Eventually, Scorpius stopped turning and stared at something. "Oi, maybe we should ask the portraits," he suggested. They all turned towards a wall with a single painting hanging on a wall. It was of an extremely pasty man with slick black hair. He was in green robes that looked like silk, and he looked annoyed.

"But portraits can't -" Cynthia started, but she was interrupted by the said portrait.

"Oh, you're a Muggle-born, aren't you?" He sneered in a nasally voice. "Disgusting batch of creatures, they are." Cynthia looked offended, and was about to retort when he continued. "Are you lot Slytherin?"

Cynthia was about to snap at him and yell 'Of course not! We're in Gryffindor!' but Scorpius stopped her. "Yeah." He put on a look of casual stuck-up ness. "I'm Scorpius Malfoy."

The guy with the nasally voice looked somewhat excited. "If you're looking for the Great Hall, it's over there." He lifted his hand and pointed to the right. "You turn left on the third hallway, go down two flights of stairs, turn right, and you can't miss it." They were walking down, following his instructions, when he stopped them. "Mr. Malfoy, why are you hanging about Mudbloods?"

Albus's eyes sparked in anger, and his lips went thin. Cynthia looked confused, but Gabriella looked furious as well, and Scorpius had an odd look on his face. "What is your name?" Scorpius asked.

The man stuck his head up in pride and announced, "I am Pontius Drake, Mr. Malfoy."

"Well, Pontius Drake, perhaps you should pay attention to the seal or color of our robes," he pointed out. Emblazoned on the left side was a golden lion surrounded by scarlet, and the inside of their robes had turned blood-red as well. Drake's eyes widened and he snarled.

Cynthia laughed louder than the other three, then stalked up to the portrait. "Well, mister _Drake_, however much I enjoy being insulted for racism, I'd much rather be a stupid _Mudblood_ as you call me than a stuck up snot with gum on his face!"

"There is no gum on my face, you stupid girl," he pompously told her.

She pulled out the piece she was chewing. "Now there is," she replied cheerfully, shoving the gum onto his nose. He cried out in protest, but the four laughing Gryffindors drowned him out. They practically skipped to the great hall and practically jumped on the benches of the House table.

* * *

_I updated. I kinda got writer's block at the end, but at least it's here, huh?_

_-AC_


	9. NOT A CHAPTER Take Two

_Okay, I'm just telling you, this story may be on hold for a few weeks. I need to get inspired, and what other way to get inspired than to actually read the series? I swear I will continue, but not for a little while. I'm sorry!_

_-AC_


	10. The First Day of School

_Writer's block can take a long walk off a short pier, cuz I'm back! *Cheers loudly* Heck yeah! Anyway, can you leave suggestions for funny 'Disclaimer' quotes? I'm running a bit low. Speaking of..._

_Disclaimer - I think we need to call Madam Promfrey and get you up to the Hospital Wing if you think that I own the Harry Potter world. Maybe St. Mungo's if it's too serious..._

* * *

Cynthia looked around the nearly empty Great Hall. Only Professor Darong was seated at the staff table, and the four first years were the only ones at the Gryffindor. There were one or two seventh years at the Hufflepuff table, the Ravenclaw table had only a few studious fifth year boys desperately pouring over their books before classes started, and the Slytherin table was completely deserted.

She picked up a bagel and smeared cream cheese and strawberry jelly over it. Taking a huge bite of it, she glanced towards Scorpius, who was sitting next to her, and to Gabriella and Albus, who were sitting across the table.

When the four were full, Professor Darong strode down the aisle. "These are your schedules. You all seem a bit eager to get the year started, I noticed," she told them, glancing around. Then she stalked back to the staff table, and they stared at the slip of yellow parchment.

"D'you think Transfiguration'll be hard?" Albus inquired to Gabriella.

She shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, changing one thing into another's got to be hard."

He frowned. "But what if they look similar? Like a small book into a brick?"

"Hm. Maybe. I dunno. We're gonna have to take the class, don't you think?"

People were starting to trickle in, so Cynthia hopped up, startling the four around her. "I think I'll remember how to get to the common room. I'll need the Charms and Transfiguration books, they're before lunch." They too got up and they rushed to the common room. Cynthia, however got stuck on a trick step up a staircase. Her leg went halfway through the step, and she couldn't pull it out, but it wasn't for a lack of trying.

Scorpius decided to help, so he went to go to the step above her, and his foot sank in next to her. "Smart one," Cynthia smirked.

"If I wasn't stuck in this step, I would knock you down the stairs," Scorpius informed her, but smiling. Albus and Gabriella jumped the step, then, after much pulling and sweating, they managed to get Cynthia out. They were going to attempt to get Scorpius out, but Cynthia tugged him out in record time. The other three stared at her, surprised at her strength.

She noticed. "What?"

"How'd you do that?" Gabriella inquired curiously.

Cynthia frowned. "You mean pull Scorpius out of the trick step?"

They nodded, and Albus elaborated, "How could you basically lift someone about your size and weight without any magic?"

"I lived on a farm," Cynthia shrugged. They got lost again, so they backtracked and went the opposite way. Eventually, they found the Gryffindor Fat Lady. "Lion Mane," Cynthia told her clearly. The portrait swung in, and they saw a semi-full common room.

A second year rushed up to them. "Where were you guys? James Potter turned some Slytherin's hair -"

Albus scowled as he guessed, "Red? Scarlet red? Looks like his head is bleeding?"

The second year nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! How'd you know?"

Albus waved his hand irritably; his mood seemed to have changed drastically from his cheerful attitude in the Great Hall. As the second year left, Cynthia leaned in and whispered, "Are you okay?"

He shrugged as Gabriella rushed over to another girl that she seemed to recognize. "James always gets the attention. He probably got that idea from Uncle George -"

"Oh, you mean that man who runs Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?" Scorpius cut in enthusiastically. "He's got some of the best -"

Cynthia effectively cut him off with a sharp glare. He stared back defiantly for a second, then looked down at his shoes and shut his mouth. "He's a troublemaker, Albus, and that's not the best way to get attention. He's probably gotten more detentions then you'll get in your seven years here at Hogwarts."

"But seventh year is optional -"

"And I don't doubt that you won't be smart enough to go on," Cynthia interrupted kindly.

Albus glanced shyly up at the large crowd roaring with laughter around James. "But he's got loads of friends -"

"And you've got real ones," Scorpius suddenly told him. "It's like Tia said on the train - you can be your own person. You don't have to be like your brother, Albus, and I don't have to be like the rest of my family. In fact, I'm going to send an owl now. Oi, you lot!" he shouted. The crowd went silent as they stared at him, not sure of what to make of him. "I'm about to get disowned by my family!"

The common room broke into festive cheers as Scorpius allowed someone to pass him a quill and a scrap of parchment. He scribbled just a few words in ink from someone next to him that happened to be in ruby red, and Cynthia looked over his shoulder to read it. It read, _I'm in Gryffindor! -Scorpius_. She caught a glance of James glaring jealously over at him as the crowd moved over, and she nudged Albus, casting an obvious glance towards his older brother. She was positive that it would brighten his mood, but it did the opposite.

Albus stared at the ground for a few moments, then went up to James to talk to him. The elder shrugged him off and dashed off to the boys' dorm. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw the smallest drop of water fall from his eye and land on the woven rug beneath him.

He took a shuddering breath, then put on a half-way believable smile and pat Scorpius on the back twice in apparent celebration. Cynthia recognized that look from the mirror for the past few months; it was the 'I'm gonna cry when I'm alone' look.

Cynthia wasn't the only one to notice. Scorpius's eyebrows creased, and he went up to the first year boy's dorm, taking Albus with him. Cynthia followed them.

"You guys better be dressed, because I'm right outside and giving you five seconds!" There was a scramble as one of the boys tugged a shirt over his head, but it wasn't halfway down when she came fluttering in, her cloak flapping behind her from the briskness of her walk. "Now, you've got thirty seconds to get out before I hex you."

The guy who pulled the shirt over his head sneered, "But classes haven't even started yet!"

"Check my accent - you should figure it's American. How much do you truly know about American wizardology?"

The blood drained from his face, but he bravely pushed on, "Well, how can you prove that you've already started?"

"Magic, duh," she rolled her eyes theatrically. Her wand appeared from apparently nowhere, then she pointed confidently at the velvet comforter on the boy's bed. "Wimgardian Leviosa!" The blanket floated in the air, and the few boys there wrapped themselves in their cloaks and rushed out. Cynthia called, "Close the door behind you!" On command, the door handle had a hand wrapped around it and slammed it shut.

The two boys who were there gawked at her. "Did you really -"

"No, I read through my text books beforehand. Anyway, both Scorp and I know there's something up."

Albus's lower lip trembled slightly, and Cynthia, recognizing the warning signs, took a step and wrapped her arms around him. Tears trickled down his face, and, doing the thing that came naturally to her, she pat him on the back in a comforting way. Now the tears streamed freely, and Albus sniffled.

She drew back and looked him squarely in the eye. "Tell me what happened," she ordered. He whispered the story to the both of them, his voice cracking occasionally. When that happened, he stopped for a few moments, then continued. Once he was finished, Cynthia nodded. "I'll bet you almost anything that, when you two grow up, you'll get along just fine. He wants attention and you and Scorpius are getting it. Cause and effect - you can't have everything, but he wants it."

Albus's eyes lingered on hers, making sure that she was telling the truth. After a few moments, he burst out, "You'd make a great mom." The comforting smile on Cynthia's face froze - it was still there, but it was fixed, not real. Eventually she stood up and faced the door. She yanked it open, and half-dressed eleven year olds fell in, as though they were listening at the door.

In a deadly whisper, she instructed, "Get. Out." Her eyes were narrowed, and her hand hovered over her pocket. The boys scrambled down the stairs, frightened half to death. Turning back around towards the two guys, she sat down. "You two have shared something personal that you didn't need to. Scorpius - your insecurity. Albus - your brother. Me - I-I have grief." Scorpius and Albus made to get up to pat her on the back, but she scowled. "I'm fine. My mom and I... we got into a car crash. She..." Cynthia took a deep breath, "she died right in front of me." Her hand went inadvertently to her left shoulder. "Some guy ran a red light and rammed straight into m-my mom." A tear dripped from her eye, but she wiped it away impatiently.

Scorpius and Albus looked at each other. "Now I feel really bad about my problems."

Before they could say that their problems were insignificant compared to hers, she cut them off by saying, "We don't want to be late to class on the first day of school, right? We have Charms first, c'mon."

* * *

_I'll continue it later. Read and Review, and, guys, could you please suggest different ways to say 'you're insane if you think I own this'? Because I don't have anymore, and they're my trademark. Anyways,_

_-AC_


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